


The musical victor

by rustygrace



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Everyone Is Alive, Finnick Odair Lives, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:02:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28112097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rustygrace/pseuds/rustygrace
Summary: Katniss has won the games at 13 years old, Peeta has won them the previous year. Her father is alive, and Lucy gray lives under the name nell evergreen. You heard it right, it's evergreen, not Everdeen. Watch as a young mockingjay handles the rebellion and plays the crowd effortlessly, winning over the capitol, both with her voice and her bow
Relationships: Haymitch Abernathy & Katniss Everdeen, Johanna Mason & Finnick Odair, Katniss Everdeen & Finnick Odair, Katniss Everdeen & Gale Hawthorne, Katniss Everdeen & Peeta Mellark
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In this fic, Mr Everdeen is the parent that lives, and Mrs. Everdeen is the one that is killed in the mining accident. This has a major effect on both the girl's personalities.  
> Katniss is thirteen and won the 74th hunger games, and so the star-crossed lovers strategy is not used. Peeta won the 73rd Games, and they both feature in the quell. They both cheat to win though, so that's something. 
> 
> Spoilers for ballad of songbirds and snakes.  
> Lucy gray's pseudonym comes from the poem Maude Claire by Christina Rosetti. In the ballad book, it's mentioned that Maude Ivory's name comes from a poem called Maude Claire. So I looked it up, and got that another name was mentioned in the poem. It was nell. This became Lucy Gray's name.  
> Lucy Gray will be featuring as Katniss' grandmother, and so there will be a lot of songs in this fic, written by both Mr everdeen and Lucy Gray. Some of the songs are also from the ballad book. I hope you like it!

One month after the 74th Hunger Games  
The nightmare is the same every night. The spear striking Rue, and then me shooting the tribute. Sometimes, it's different. Instead of Rue, the spear strikes me. I wake up. It was one of those nights. I treaded through the house and in the dark, found grandma's bed. Crawling into her bed, I lay there next to her and try to fall asleep.  
I guess my efforts were successful, because when I opened my eyes, it was morning. "Catnip, did you have a nightmare last night?" Grandma asked.  
She's the only person that calls me that, aside from Gale. I nodded. She said nothing, just hugged me. I got ready. Today was Gale's birthday, and we were going for a walk in the woods, just the two of us, and then eating at our place in the victor's village. We couldn't do anything in the evening. We had to work. Well, Gale had to, we had the money, but we still worked. I was actually looking forward to singing in the Hob today.  
I went to the part of the district known as the seam, the poorest part and walked right past our old house. I jogged past all the other houses, and crawled under the fence which led to the woods.  
"Hey catnip, how are you?" Gale drawled. He never speaks normally, he drawls. I like that. "Happy birthday Gale!" I said, and ran off into the woods. He ran after me, and we had fun running around near the lake, climbing trees, and basically having fun.  
When it began to get hot, we snuck back into the district through the fence, and went home. Grandma and I had made Gale's favourite food, and we did have time before we needed to go to the hob in the evening.

“Uhh, Catnip, while you were away, I asked Madge out. We’re uhhh a thing.” He said to me after lunch.  
“Finally! I rolled my eyes and said. Those two had been dancing around each other forever. Gale ran off, presumably to be with Madge.  
That evening, we were getting ready to go to the hob. I was wearing one of the dresses that Cinna had made for me as a present, a beautiful but simple green dress with gold nets that looked like those wings of fire that I was wearing in the tribute parade. It was one of my favourite dresses, the other being a dress that belonged to my mother. As we're roughly the same size, Prim was wearing another one of Cinna's creations, a yellow dress with blue designs and no sleeves. Prim usually played the fiddle, and sometimes that small drum. Dad was wearing a red shirt, and his old mining overalls. The overalls were bleached and styled so that they would look like stage clothes.  
"You look beautiful, 'jay" He said. He's always loved the mockingjay, and sometimes calls me that.  
"You too, dad." I replied. We picked up our instruments and headed for the Hob. Gale was standing at the door. I handed him his brown guitar, and we walked inside. Gale and I both knew how to play the guitar, and dad sung. Well, sometimes we did too, and the crowd loved it when the two of us did a duet. But I knew what we were going to do today. Dad was going to sing the song he wrote when Mom died, and I don't know how I knew it, but I just did. We kicked away the trash that lay on the stage, and readied our instruments. People were already milling about, no doubt wanting to hear my voice again. But the first song was Dad's. He sat on the tall stool, cleared his throat, gripped the mic tight and gave the call.  
"C'mon people! A-1 A-2 A - 1 2 3 4!"  
I hoisted the guitar on my lap and strummed along with it. Prim picked up her fiddle, and gale gave the beat on the drum. This was one of my favourite songs, one that I could sing in my sleep, and one that never failed to remind me of my mother. Dad started singing. 

Hey and ho the Miners strike  
on the rocks and the caves  
blackened hands and things of the like  
Chip away the coal

Bright flashes and snatches of light,  
and people going down on the ropes  
down the chasm and out of sight  
they chip away the coal

Dynamite and shovels and picks  
Armed with these they meet their goal  
Poking fire with their sticks  
they chip away the coal

Oh-ho ho o o oh Oh-ho ho o o oh

That girl was hardened but so pretty  
She had shining eyes and a sooty face  
a miner he’d never seen so gritty  
and this is their saga

he was a lad from the seam  
and she was a townie  
It never ends well the townsfolk say,  
that’s why ‘tis their saga

Oh-ho ho o o oh Oh-ho ho o o oh

The lad from the seam  
and the lass from town  
they’re living a dream  
but it all came crashing down

The mines are so gray  
They hold many dangers  
‘twas an accident they said  
‘Twas when the mines became a stranger

Oh-ho ho o o oh Oh-ho ho o o oh

The bard tells you tales  
of love  
but little do you know  
he laments for his lost love

The seam-lad and townie  
it ends in tragedy  
he laments for lost love  
and this is their story

Oh-ho ho o o oh Oh-ho ho o o oh

Applause rang out, and I went next. I decided to sing that old song. 'Nothing you can take' because it reminded me, every time I felt low, of how I had scored a point over the capitol. When I came back, Grandma had told me the story of this song. She herself had written that song, and when One of the covey was reaped in the early days of the Hunger Games, she made a huge spectacle at the reaping by singing this. From that day, I decided to own this song, make it mine. I finished the song and bowed. Then Gale and I did a duet, and Prim sang a bit too. Then at the end, dad sang the song about the snow. That song was also a song that reminded me of my mother. The whole way she was described, and the tune of the song took me back to the days when she was alive. At night, we all went home, and I was so tired, that I didn't have any nightmares.  
The days flew by with singing and hunting and Peeta and Gale and Haymitch and Grandma and dad. The snow began to fall, and I began having those dreams again, because the victory parade was looming close. This meant that I had to get entangled in the world of the capitol again. Do the very thing that I didn’t want to. Someone help me, please!  



	2. The victory tour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The victory tour is a little different this time, and Katniss has to deal with everything alone.

2 months after the 74th Hunger Games:  
I started to get admirers, admirers that morphed into something else, admirers that made me worm their way into bedrooms. I was in the Capitol one day, when I saw a sandy-haired boy exiting the door of the house beside me. I raised my eyebrow, doubtful that he could even see it in the darkness of the back alley. “65.” He whispered, and then looking at my face which clearly displayed a question mark, said, “Ask for secrets.”  
Later that week when I went home, I looked up all the victors, and when I came to the 65th Hunger Games, I was right. With shaking hands, I turned the screen off, and sat in silence. Finnick Odair, the peacock, the charming, suave, young victor, had the same fate as me. He was telling me what to do, telling me how to play the game, making it easier on me. My hands kept shaking, so I went out. "A-a-A-a" I called out. Soon, the melody echoed back. A black bird flew in through the window. I stretched out my arm, letting him sit there. With my other hand, I stroked his head gently, humming the melody of the mines song written by my father.  
"What are you thinking about, Katniss?" Prim asked.  
"Oh, it's nothing, just the games." I said. Even though I was thinking about them, what I was actually thinking about was very far from the actual games. My sister wouldn't survive in the cutthroat world of the capitol. And I have to do something to ensure that she doesn't fall to them. I took out an old piece of paper, and started scrawling something furiously. The mockingjay echoed the tune I was singing under my breath. Just then, a knock sounded. I went outside to see who it was. "Hello Madge!" I said. The bird had moved to my shoulder now.

Madge cooed at the mockingjay, and suddenly getting businesslike, grabbed my wrist and started walking. With no choice, I followed her. We came to the Mayor's house. Madge went to her room, and once we were safe inside, she shut the door.  
"I've got something important, Kat." She said. It seemed like everyone had a different name for me now. I was sitting down on the bed, and she was sitting on the chair near the window.  
"Well I figured that much," I said sarcastically.  
"Look, stuff is happening in the districts. Like, major stuff. And by major, I mean riots." Her eyebrows seemed about ready to disappear into her hair, and her face held an expression that was half-scared and half- something else I couldn't place.  
"Where?" I asked quietly.  
"11. Well, After rue and stuff, yeah. People do get pretty worked up when it's a kid involved. I mean, I guess the uprising wouldn't be there if an 18 year old had died, right?" She asked innocently.  
"Well, I think you're right. But why are you telling me this? I could have heard it-" But then I stop midsentence. "Yes, they would have covered it up."  
"And another thing. I think I saw a mockingjay somewhere. Not yours." She said doubtfully. "But it's just a songbird, right?"  
I thought of telling her no, the mockingbird was a sogbird, the mockingjay was not meant to exist at all. But I kept uiet. The walls could hear.  
"Oh." I said, and left it at that. "Can you play something on the piano?" I asked.  
"You're changing the topic." She said.  
"Well, I want a melody for uhh my mockingjay to repeat." I said. The mockingjay had plenty of melodies to repeat. I just wanted something to listen to, something to drown out my thoughts.  
The melody had me humming soon, the words of a song coming to me soon. After a while, I went home, scrapped the song I was writing before, and with wheels whirring in my brain, and the mockingjay on my arm, I fell asleep on the couch.

The day of the victory parade.  
I woke up and saw the date. It was mid-december, and today was the day that my stylists would arrive, and I would be reminded of the way that the Capitolites treated the Hunger Games. The glorified killing, the outfits, Caesar Flickerman the creep, Snow, they all were people who I had no wish to meet. As I had often remarked to Gale, and sometimes even Haymitch and Peeta, the only good thing about the capitol was Cinna and the lamb stew.  
A knock sounded on the door of the house. It was, as I had expected, Cinna and his team of stylists. They all mooned and gushed over me, touching my hair and my cheeks and whatnot. I had actually taken everyone’s words with a pinch of salt, and cut off my hair when I arrived from the capitol. I quite liked that look, actually. Cinna came in last, carrying two heavy bags with him, presumably containing all the things they were going to slather on me, matching me to the Capitol’s standards of beauty. I helped him bring the bags in, and then hugged him.  
Cinna, unlike my other stylists, or even the other people from the capitol, had an air around him that made me feel at ease. I can allow myself to let my guard down around him. He took out 2 dresses, offering me a choice. I picked the one on his left arm, a simple but breathtaking dark grey dress with flame patterns rising above. I put it on, and tried not to squirm as Venia, and Octavia did my makeup. I did my hair myself, tossing my short locks about until they looked messy but stylish. Then the stylists dusted a bit of glitter into my hair, and I have to say, I looked pretty decent. I went to the train, and got in. Peeta, my mentor, had already gotten in.  
“Mornin’” Peeta greeted. I nodded in return.  
The train ride was silent, mostly because I was nervous, especially about district 1, 2, and 11. I had killed the tributes of one and two, after all. It was also silent because Peeta was painting. He sat there, feet firmly planted against the table, face screwed up in concentration, one hand clenching the brush, and the other supporting the wooden board on which lay the paper he was drawing on. I looked out of the window, and in the dim light, saw that someone had graffitied a mockingjay onto the walls. Similar splotches of paint followed. There were things like “the odds are never in your favour” or “There are no winners, only survivors.” My heart thudded at the sight of this, and I leaned my head against the backboard of the seat and tried to wrap my head around the fact that Mayor Undersee and President Snow were speaking the truth. I had done something big, and I wasn't sure if I could stop it. I must have fallen asleep, because Effie Trinket was shaking my shoulder as we pulled into District 11. Cinna put some final touches on me, and I was pushed out onto the stage. 

District 11:  
District 11 was a vast expanse of crops, watchtowers, and small clusters of shacks here and there. Cinna comes in with a pretty orange frock patterned with autumn leaves. I went off course, describing how much Rue meant to me, how thresh had shown me mercy, and how sad I was that they died. If I hadn't won the Games, Thresh had a good chance of doing it. And then I sing. I sing the song I wrote for everyone, and the mockingjay, who has followed me, sits on my shoulder, chirping along, being the only instrument I needed. I sing on, my warbling tune telling them stories about a land from far away. Then I delve into the darker parts, how the land far away isn't all glitz, and then I pour out my tale, I tell them about the people, I tell them about the boy from district four, I tell them everything. I hope they get the message that this could have happened to rue. Someone does a four-note whistle, and the crowd salutes, putting three fingers to their lips and raising it in the air. The peacekeepers kill the man.  


District 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10.  
Nothing happened, except that I learnt that foxface's real name was Emily, and that she and her district partner were a couple. They didn't allow us to meet any other victors. We were followed around by peacekeepers. District 8 was also a rebellious one, but the crowd played itself. It didn't take a fool to know that all of them were boiling with fury and vengeance, that all of them were ready to go to extremes of needed. As if sensing it wasn't safe, the mockingjay didn't accompany me any longer.

District 5:  
I learnt that Foxface's name was amber and the district 5 male was her boyfriend. If they had rebellious tendencies, they had the sense to keep it down. I wished that I could be free to go against the capitol, or at least die in the Games so that all this worry could have been eliminated, passed onto someone else. Instead, I was in this in-between realm of district and capitol, belonging to neither. 

District 4:  
Being a career district as well as a rebellious one had it's advantages. I didn't need to worry about the people, they handled it pretty well, giving me blue flowers and calling me brave and not asking any awkward questions. It seemed like the crowd knew how to play itself. I felt a bit better.

District 3:  
"tell us what you really think!" someone said. I read from my cards. I wanted to tell the lady that yes, I was as hurt from the Games as the dead tributes, that yes, I wanted the games gone, yes, I wished that they would stop claiming that the blast which killed my mother was an accident, that yes, I wanted the poverty gone, but my throat closed up. I hung my head as I walked back to the train, disappointed in myself for not being able to handle the crowd. 

District 2:  
Cinna had made me another fire themed dress, this one with some pretty blue flames that almost looked real. It was a happy dress, and I liked it, but I wanted to keep this dress for another district, maybe 11 or 5 since I was allies with those tributes. Since I had shot Cato and injured Clove a big deal, my throat had a big bad lump of nervousness inside. I did the same thing I had done in District 1: keep your head down, and make it quick and painless. When we got back to the train, I changed into my usual jacket and pants and laid my head on the table. "You’ll only have to worry about the capitol now." Peeta was beside me again, urging me to eat, and reassuring me that all would be fine. I didn't believe him. I didn't have to be an expert to know that it was all a lie.

District 1:  
I hardly looked up as I read my speech and then was ushered back into the train by Effie Trinket. "Man, that felt so different! Why wasn't I able to handle the crowd? I- I literally do it on a daily basis, but I couldn't handle it."  
"Yeah, but the crowd you handle is not made up of entitled career packs and things can be vastly different when you're not allowed to step right into your comfort zone." Peeta said, slouching on the seat opposite me.  
"What do we do next year, Peeta? It'll be the two of us as mentors." I asked, just now realizing the gravity of the situation. You never leave the Arena. The nightmares, the mentoring, the visits to the capitol, the again, again, again, never stopped. And no singing when the capitol is concerned. It was going to be a long wild ride. I was driven out of my thoughts by Peeta, who looked into my eyes, sighed, and said, "Well, we'll have to figure it out as we go."

The Capitol:  
"I don't like Caesar flickerman." I complained, as I put on a deep blue dress and pinned a stray strand of my hair back.Why was  
" I know, I know, he's a downright creep. But this will probably be the last time you'll have to face him onstage, right?"  
“And then next year I’ll have to do it offstage, where he’s gonna be more of a creep because he’s got no restrictions.”  
“Unfortunately that’s true. Let’s hope something happens to him.”  
I was asked many, many questions, feeling exhausted by the proximity. Then came the ball, and everyone was touching my shoulders, my hands, my cheeks, it felt creepy, so creepy. The mockingjay was seen everywhere, clothes, pins, badges, iced onto cakes, toasted onto bread and drizzled onto soup, and it made me wonder, was Snow really mad about the Mockingjay if he allowed it go on display like this? But the capitol was crazy about me. I wished they weren’t, because if they really knew me, they would be sorely disappointed.

The train left the Capitol at one, and I fell asleep soon after, because honestly, I was too tired. I had stayed up this late a few times, whenever there was something big happening and we needed to sing. But not for a party, never for a party. I might be good at singing, but I was as clumsy as a turkey shot by Gale when it came to dancing. I didn’t want to go to the celebration in 12, I wanted to sleep. But I still did, because it was one of the days when Grandma used to sing. Without fail, on Prim and my birthday, on the evening of the reaping when everyone needed to cheer up, and during the victory tour, her clear voice rang out and her wrinkled hands played the guitar. I didn’t know why she came out only on these days, but she did. I was wearing a pink satin dress this time, a dress that covered only one of my shoulders and opened at my left knee, opening up. I liked this dress, shimmery and comfortable, but felt alien when compared to the simple dresses of Prim and Grandmother, who were already up on stage. I was tapping my foot and fidgeting, waiting for the talk with the mayor to be over, because I wanted to find madge. When the mayor had finished speaking, he switched off the microphone, and asked me quietly, “Do you want to talk to Madge?”  
I nodded.  
“Run along then, you know where to find her!”  
I went to the second floor and stepped into Madge’s room.  
“Hello Katniss!” She said cheerily.  
“Hello! I’m bored of the Party.”  
“Parties, you mean, with one in all the districts.” She said, knowing exactly what I was thinking.  
“True, feels so good to see a familiar face.”  
“Did you hear about me and Gale?”  
“Yes, years ago. I thought it would take forever for the two of you.”  
“Were we really that obvious?” She asked, curious.  
“Yes.” I replied.  
“So how was it, the tour? The whole thing?”  
“Uncomfortable at best, and a nightmare at worst.”  
“Oh was it? I thought it would be interesting.”  
“No it really isn’t, Madge. I guess you can see why Gale and I get annoyed with you sometimes. You don’t get how hard it is for someone like me or Gale, or Haymitch.”  
“Yeah, maybe I don’t, but I am willing to get to know. Maybe when I’m mayor, we’ll work something out.”  
I smiled at her ambition. She had no idea, I thought.  
The next morning, after I had returned from the woods, I asked grandma the question that had been plaguing me ever since the reaping.  
“Grandma, why did you tell me not to sing when it comes to the capitol?”  
“Because catnip, The capitol doesn’t like Mockingjays, and I want you to stay sane."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I hope you liked this chapter. I'm sorry I couldn't update, I forgot.


	3. The Quell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They get the news of the quell, and oh boy, does everyone get a shock.

Chapter 3: The quell  
Around the time of the quarter quell announcement(Late march to early april.)  
Let me tell you one thing before I begin. All of the district 12 victors, three alive and one dead, won by cheating. I don’t know how, I don’t even know why, but it just happened. And due to that, everyone thinks that the next district to be blown up will be ours. But they don’t need to eradicate the whole district, do they? It would begin a rebellion all over again. They only need to weed out the victors. The ones who don’t fear the capitol, the ones who do all sorts of tricks to win the games. We put the capitol in a dilemma. Do they allow us to go on and put on a huge show for the audience, or do they allow us to go on and thwart them, turn their rules onto themselves, and destroy the very purpose of the Games, that is to remind the districts who is in control? I wasn’t taught to fear the Capitol at all. I was not fed lies. I was told that the Hunger Games were only a way to strike fear, and if I got reaped, or even volunteered, I should go out there and face it without fear. It helped me during my first games. I knew to face the games without fear, but some didn’t. I guess that’s why I won. If I knew that someone had bent the rules before me, I could do that without hesitation. I’d actually gone against a lot of the unspoken norms, like loving my sister enough to volunteer, the outfit at the tribute parade, the way I won the games, the way I could kill and the way that this could scare me unlike some careers, I just wanted to forget about all this. Live in the woods, maybe, and never come back.   
There is one thing that happened in the Capitol that I didn’t mention. That vile snake, Coriolanus Snow, came right up to my face, and I asked, “Well, did I put on a show? Play the crowd, like you asked?”  
He nodded. Which meant that I had to smile in front of the career pack, even if it exhausted me, hurt me. I dug my nails into my palms, leaving marks there. I was now a creature of the Capitol, someone I would be ashamed to call a human. I let the wind flow over the bare shoulders of the dress as I waited in the balcony. And that brought me back to the present. I was sitting near the window of my room, unable to sleep, unable to think except fot what that lizard had said. I had to learn to play the crowd. Properly. Become someone who wasn’t me. For ever. Were the Games ever going to go away?  
I got up and paced around the room. Old Katniss would have loved this. Big house, staying awake, cool air, springtime, basically. New Katniss just wished that a big house didn’t mean big problems and fabricating your personality.  
All the victors have had to do that sometime or the other. Show the world that they are victors, that they braved the arena, and not scared children who cry at night, not Adolescents dealing with growing up and dealing with their feelings while bearing the additional burden of the games, not scarred adults who have lost their childhood to nightmares, families of victors who are scared of what will happen next if their child/spouse/sibling is next in the line of example victors to be killed. Everyone knows this though, they just don’t talk about it. Why do we have to pretend that the Victors are flamboyant capitol darlings when everyone knows that they are hated? When everyone knows that they just want a peaceful life and a happy family?  
I wish it didn’t have to be this way.   
With that thought, I sat back into the chair. I must have fallen asleep, because I was squinting into the light and rubbing the cold, stretched patch on my forehead. I got ready relatively fast, and saw that the TV was switched on. I remembered the day at that exact moment, also hoping that this was a bad dream and I hadn’t woken up today. It was the day of the quarter quell announcements. The brutal twist in the Games, the bitter reminder of their continuing power over us. I wish I hadn’t woken up today.  
The viper reared it’s ugly head and the snake-like, cold eyes seemed to stare right at me. I held my breath, waiting for it to strike. After the usual speech about what happened in the quarter quells before this, he read, “On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors.”  
My first instinct is to turn to Grandma, who is silently shaking her head and muttering something under her breath. Prim says nothing, shaking her head. Dad mutters, “Abernathy..” and sighs. I say nothing, just let out a loud sigh that is probably annoying.   
Dad is the first to run out, presumably to go to Haymitch’s place. I finally heard what Grandma was saying. “Sorry Katniss, I am so sorry for this.” I ignore her. I didn’t understand why she was saying that. I walked around the victor’s village, my arms wrapped around myself, and my mind numbed to everything.  
The next thing I knew, I was in one of those empty houses in the victor’s village. I'm on my hands and knees in the cellar of one of the empty houses in the Victor's Village. Faint shafts of moonlight come in through the window wells above my head.  
I curl up on my side and stare at the patches of moonlight on the cement floor. Back in the arena. Back in the place of nightmares. That's where I am going. I have to admit I didn't see it coming.   
The viper’s voice is like an echo, filling my inside and outside with the words of the announcement. Yes, victors are our strongest. They're the ones who survived the arena and slipped the noose of poverty that strangles the rest of us. They, or should I say we, are the very embodiment of hope where there is no hope. And now twenty-three of us will be killed to show how even that hope was an illusion.  
___________________________________________

“I know, I know, you wanna keep your daughter safe.” I said as soon as he entered the house.   
“Yes. And there’s another thing.” he said.   
“Stay Alive.” He continued.   
And the most selfless man I ever knew sat down next to me, and took my hand.   
“What do you want?” I asked, confused.   
“Later. We’ll talk later.”  
“Fine, as you wish evergreen.” I said.   
“The Victors cheated too much. From sixty-fifth onwards, they’re all rebels. Every one of them is young and out for blood. And well, you. Every Victor from district 12 has cheated in some way or the other. And people are finally starting to realize that the odds are never in their favour. What Katniss did with little rue? And how she let that what’s-her-name from district 5 go, they made the Capitol look like fools. The people sure enjoyed it, but the rulers? Never. They’re control freaks. I doubt that this was written 75 years ago, just as I doubt it was really Prim’s name on there. 2 chits, not a single tessarae. Abernathy, you keep her safe, and you stay alive, okay? I don’t want to sing in a world with the Capitol’s boot upon my throat, telling me what to sing and what to play.”   
“What’s the point, evergreen? We’re all going to die in the end.” I say. I hate life, and if I had a choice, it would be me and the girl out there, but I had to agree to send the baker’s boy to his death if it meant that my friend’s world would remain unshattered. Then like an afterthought, I thought, the boy is only 16, has his whole life to live. I had no family. He had. “Look Evergreen, you can’t expect 2 people to come out alive of this bargain. It’s either me, or the girl.” I added on to my train of ‘everyone-dies’ thought.   
“Well, you fooled the capitol, work something out! You were cunning then, you’re cunning now. 2 can survive, one victor and one mentor.”  
Just then, Peeta Mellark comes rushing in. “Katniss lives.” he breathed out.   
I rolled my eyes. Evergreen wanted to save me *and* katniss. Peeta wanted to save Katniss. I wanted to save both of them, I wished my brain could fight through the liquor, *not* be numb for once and figure out a way of outsmarting the capitol once again.  
“Well, we were just talking about that, right?” I said.   
“Are you drunk, Haymitch?” He asks.  
“He isn’t. And have you seen Katniss? She ran off when the announcement was made.” Evergreen spoke out.   
“No, but I guess she’ll come back. She always does, doesn’t she? ”   
“Well, leave it to me. I’ll do something. I’ll think something up.”   
Peeta nodded and ran off.   
“Will you really?” Evergreen asked.  
“I really want to, at least.” I said back. I was planning to go in, I was planning a lot of things.   
“See you.” He said shortly, and left the room.   
Soon, Katniss evergreen enters the room.   
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” I said, rolling my eyes.


End file.
